


A Once Barren Landscape

by juliesioux



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Forgiveness, Olicity Invisible Friend, Post Elseworlds, Sex, True Love, olicity - Freeform, post slabside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliesioux/pseuds/juliesioux
Summary: This is a a simple one shot of what I think a News Year Eve could look like for Oliver and Felicity after the ridiculous cross over. They wouldn't have much in terms of time and money to buy gifts or even celebrate the dual holiday season, so I thought about what they could have done. Then I thought about the space they live in and how it is a reflection of where they are as a couple. Then things took off, as they do lolBut most specifically and importantly, this was written as part of the #OlicityInvisibleFriend gift exchange on Twitter for @SoaresYharla. Hope you enjoy it and that the New Year brings only good things!





	A Once Barren Landscape

**A Once Barren Landscape**

_He saw her clearly_  
through the haze of lingering fear  
and felt her heart pressed to his.  


 

Oliver awoke to an empty bed. That wasn’t unusual since his release from Slabside. Felicity would often get up in the middle of the night to give him space. He had lashed out one night, deep in a nightmare, pushed her off the bed while still deeply asleep. She had lain in hurt silence on the floor and waited for him to claw his way to wakefulness. When he looked for her, she hadn’t been afraid of him, only reluctant to share their bed again that night until the nightmares had worked themselves out of his system.

In an attempt at appeasement, he had slept on the couch, secretly accepting the exile as necessary, the narrow dimensions and the colder, barren living room being his penance. But his heart was bursting apart, all of its barely healed scars splitting in guilt and grief of a partnership of souls so cruelly broken by his decision seven months prior.

He had lain there, covered by a wool blanket, and contemplated the cold, grey room. They hadn’t put anything on the walls or paid any attention to the energy they had put into the place they were calling home. It was barren, cold and devoid of life. He had fallen asleep wondering if they had any art in storage they could put up to take away the echoes in the room when they spoke.

This time, he was alone in a room that was still dark and a quick check of his phone showed him why. It was just after three am and for some reason Felicity had left their bedroom. He couldn’t remember any violent dreams, or nightmare, or even the rare night terrors that he would have after particularly violent missions.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he got out of bed, his feet searching for his slippers on the carpeted floor. The polished concrete underneath leeched cold up through the thick, woolen rug that she had placed on his side of the bed. She had taken care of so much in such a short period of time but was keeping her energy to herself even as she unpacked their former lives from the masses of boxes that had been delivered over the course of the last week to their new home.

Felicity was vibrantly, brilliantly alive. She radiated colour and energy simply by existing. It was initially what caught his attention. She was a whirlwind, a force of nature in heels. His eyes would search for her in any room he entered even before he could admit how he truly felt about her. It was instinctual, automatic. When he was in Slabside, he would seek out her aura in the darkest corners of his cell, waiting for her energy to spark, flare into life, giving him solace and comfort in a place that was as close to hell on earth as he had ever been.

Slowly, on soft feet, he made his way into the livingroom and spotted the pale glow of her tablet on the couch. Felicity was sound asleep, curled up into the corner of the L-shaped couch, her tablet on the table in front of her running one of security algorithms. She must have had a breakthrough in figuring out how to defend against sonic attacks on security systems, specifically the one she had created for their home.

Her obsession with their safety was rooted both in his abandonment and Diaz’s attack on her and William. Rebuilding the trust between them would take time but most importantly, it would take a tremendous amount of effort on his part. Words, apologies, they meant nothing to her. She needed to feel safe, not hear how sorry he was for creating the situation in the first place.

Picking up the blanket they kept on the back of the couch, he gently laid it over her, smoothing her hair off of her face and then carefully taking her glasses off. He knew she hated it when she woke up with them still on.

“Hmmm,” she mumbled, “You’re up.”  
“It’s 3am, love,” he chuckled quietly, “Are you ok?”  
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, “I figured out the algorithm and wanted to get it down before it fled my mind.”

Oliver smiled. When she was half asleep, she rambled. He had learned more about 17th Century warfare in the middle of the night then he’d ever hoped to but he listened to every word, every half remembered fact, quote and book recommendation. Everything was always esoteric and distinctly _her_ in terms of subject matter.

“Coming back to bed?” he asked with masked hopefulness.  
“Mmmhmm...gimme a minute.”  
“I can carry you,” he said, his sweetest threat.  
“Don’t you dare,” she said sleepily, struggling to push herself up from the confines of the couch.  
“Then come on,” he nudged her gently as he spoke, “it gets cold in there without you.”

Felicity looked at him and smiled. “Help me up?”  
“You got it,” he said gently and held her hands as she stood up from the couch.  
“Sorry I worried you,” she wrapped her arms around him as she said it.  
“You never need to apologize for flashes of brilliance,” he teased but then grew sombre, “I thought...I thought maybe I had another prison nightmare.”  
“I’m getting better at waking up before they hit their zenith,” she murmured into his chest.

They stood together, each in a world of their own yet wrapped in the other’s embrace, and tentatively searched for their shared foundation. The weather had turned violent outside and the wind was howling past their condo, creating a high pitched whine that sent shivers down his spine.

“Come on, bedtime,” he said soothingly and slipped his feet under hers. She laughed, her chest pressing against his, as he walked them back to the bedroom. He remembered dancing with her like this in Positano a lifetime ago, when they were still so new to each other. The sun had been setting over the Tyrrhenia Sea, the scent of lemon trees wafting in the evening breeze. She had been wearing a dress, gauzy and long, and had laughed as he spun them around to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shore far below them.

“Oliver, do you know what day it is tomorrow? Or, rather, today, I guess,” she asked quietly.  
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he answered.  
“We didn’t really celebrate Hanukkah or Christmas this year,” she said sadly, “William is already back at school in Cambridge. Why don’t we do something? Just you and me?”  
“It’s...it’s impossible to go out, Felicity,” he said regretfully, knowing the part he played in the reason why they could no longer go out without careful thought as to where and when, “Why don’t I make us some dinner, all our favourites.”  
“So kale salad for you and pizza for me?” she teased.  
“Uh…”  
“I’m teasing,” she laughed, “You decide.”  
“Oh I will, now sleep,” he smiled, kissed her forehead and releasing her so that she could crawl back into bed.

They settled back into their familiar positions, Felicity turned away from him and then pushed back into his chest. They would drift away and fall back, each riding their own tidal force of dreams and silence throughout the night. Oliver would reach for her in his sleep, the warmth of his touch drawing her back to him. It was a nightly dance, one that he had missed to the point of unspeakable grief for seven months.

When he awoke later that morning, she had turned around and was curled into his side, one arm stretched out across him, the other bent under her pillow. The light outside their bedroom windows was still dark but he could see shades of grey creeping up from below. It most likely wasn’t late but it wasn’t early. Despite having fallen asleep almost immediately upon returning to bed, they had obviously slept for several more dreamless hours.

She sighed and yawned, her sleep cycle so perfectly attuned to his, and opened one eye. Much to his amusement, she closed it and buried her head under the blanket. Getting her out of bed lately had been a chore. She was resistant to getting up earlier than 9am, especially if she had been working late the night before.

“You stay. I’ll go make some coffee. Sound good?” he asked quietly.  
“Mmmhmm,” she murmured.

Slowly, he slipped out of their bed and stretched the kinks out of his back and legs. He needed to go for a run, to do something physical that would engage his body but let his mind drift, let him disconnect from the continual loop of regret he was locked into. They didn’t have a bunker for him to workout in and going to a regular gym was out of the question. Their building had high security, thanks to Felicity, but no shared gym space. He needed to move his body in familiar ways and maintain his fitness level.

He walked through the barren livingroom to the kitchen area. The open concept was his preference but this particular layout still felt strange to him. Like it was missing a wall, a partition. There was no privacy, no sense of a space where they could be alone with no interruptions. Maybe it was time to talk about remodeling, he considered as he poured the boiling water over the ground coffee, install some kind of transparent wall to give the illusion of separate rooms.

As he waited for the coffee to brew, he walked over to the large windows that formed two walls of their living room. The sun would have to do battle with the deep, deep cloud cover that had blanketed the city overnight. Winters on the west coast were damp, cold affairs but luckily, they didn’t last long. He watched as the fog slowly flowed around the building facing them, obscuring the gleaming glass structure from view. It was going to be a dark and gloomy, west coast day.

He distracted himself for a few minutes by making their coffee and looking at what they had in the kitchen for him to make for their dinner. Whatever they were missing, he could order for delivery. Going to the grocery store, once such a beautiful diversion, was no longer something he felt comfortable doing. Too many staring eyes and quiet whispers as people identified who he was and then the building tension as they all waited for him to leave before something violent happened.

Carrying a mug in each hand, he made his way back to the bedroom. He was cold in the featureless space and wanted to get back into bed where it was warm. The gas fireplace they had installed was ready to use but they both kept forgetting to turn it on. Luckily, she was still burrowed under the covers. He put her mug on her side table and quickly went around to his side of the bed and crawled back under the covers.

“Come on, love,” he cajoled, “or your coffee will get cold.”  
“It smells so good,” came her muffled voice.  
“Sit up,” he laughed, “We have to get started on the day at some point.”  
“No,” she said, finally surfacing for air, “Let’s stay in bed forever.”  
“Oh, now that is very tempting,” he said in his low, deep voice.  
“You are way too sexy when you use that voice,” she grumbled as she reached for her mug.  
“And you are hilariously grumpy when you first wake up, now drink your coffee,” he laughed.

They sat in relaxed silence, enjoying the coffee and each other’s company. Oliver thought about the day ahead and felt that familiar surge of anxiousness. His whole body was one reactive twitch. It helped make his decision, a solid run would help work the tension out of his body.

“I think I need to go for a run,” he said quietly.  
“Will it be...safe?” she asked carefully. The topic of safety was a delicate one between them. To ease her mind, he squeezed her hand and nodded.  
“I will keep my hoodie up and not listen to music,” he said, “If I run around the park and through the harbour front, I should be ok. The weather is pretty awful.”  
“OK, but take your phone. Just in case.”  
“Check,” he agreed.

Finishing up, he got up and hunted out the appropriate gear to wear in cold, damp weather. He was touched and so thankful that she had kept all his clothes in storage. It was another sign that she would have stopped at nothing to free him had everything she did fail the first time.

“We need to get some art up on the walls,” she said suddenly.  
“You were reading my mind earlier, weren’t you?” he said in mock suspicion.  
“Oliver, look around. We have nothing up,” she said with a roll of her eyes.  
“I was also thinking that the living room needs...I don’t know, some kind of transparent wall or divider. It needs one or two defined spaces,” he said as he pulled on his water repellent leggings and then his running shorts over top.  
“I was thinking about that and that maybe, just maybe, we should buy the condo upstairs, so we can branch out and give William some space from us,” she suggested, watching him for his reaction.  
“Felicity,” he said as he zipped up his hoodie, “I love you.”

Then he leaned down, gave her a quick kiss and left the bedroom. An extra floor would be the answer to all his training prayers. He began his run with thoughts of how to build a home gym that would meet his requirements. He let his imagination run wild, creating and recreating a space for his salmon ladder, an area for mats, for Felicity’s computers. It wouldn’t be a bunker, but it could be a homebase. Their bedroom could be on that floor, he thought. They needed more privacy when William was home.

His mind slipped into automatic at that point. His feet carried him through the city. It was late in the morning, so he left the downtown streets and made his way through the large waterfront parks, down through the docks and back again. His lungs started to burn only after he hit the thirtieth mile. He was a few miles from home but he needed to stop for just a few minutes. With shaking fingers, he texted Felicity and asked if she could have a bowl of granola with fruit ready for him when he got back.

Thinking about his breakfast choice again, he changed his mind and asked her to add yogurt and almonds. He would need the protein until he could make a protein shake. A four and half hour run would require it and he still had at least forty minutes to go.

She texted back a thumbs up and told him to look for it in the bedroom so he could eat it and hop in the shower. Smiling, he put his phone away, pulled up his hood and began his run home. His legs felt powerful and light, like he could run for another four hours. Even as younger man, he had never been able to run like this, without fear of muscle failure or exhaustion.

He almost took the stairs up to their condo but opted for the elevator, using it to bring his heart rate down and stretch out his calves. He’d do a proper cool down in the condo but at least it was a start.

“Hey!” he called out once inside, “I’m home!”

The condo was silent. He looked around, saw her bag on the dining room table but no sign of her. Her tablet was gone from the coffee table which gave him the only clue he needed. For some reason, Felicity preferred working from their bedroom when he wasn’t home. It had been originally tied to the trauma of Diaz’s attack while he was incarcerated, but now it was about comfort. She liked being able to wrap herself in blankets whenever possible in the winter and the first she had installed, after a secure link to her private servers, was a gas fireplace in the bedroom.

“I’m back here!” she called.  
“I figured you’d be back in here,” he said as he joined her. She was laying across the bed, her attention firmly fixed on the screen in front of her, the fireplace blazing with heat.  
“Food, protein shake,” she said, pointing at the dresser without looking up, “hamper for your clothes and the shower is ready to go.”  
“You thought of everything,” he said warmly, leaning down to kiss her.  
“Nice and sweaty,” she smiled, “Now - food and shower.”  
“Yes, ma’am.”

He ate the granola so fast, he had no idea what it tasted like. All he knew was that it hit the spot and took away the enormous, gnawing pit in his stomach. It would take all day to refuel after that run and he was hoping they had enough food in the house to deal with it. The protein shake she made was slowly taking the edge off and he was so grateful for her thoughtfulness but he knew he could be a bear to be around if he didn’t refuel fast enough.

The shower he took, which he made as hot as he possibly could stand it, helped work the last of the lactic acid out of his muscles and he started to feel the loss of the runner’s high that always followed marathon runs. He shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. He was free, that was all that really mattered.

By the time he was done, Felicity was sitting up, furiously typing on her tablet. He stood, watched her and then did the only thing he could think of doing to get her attention. He returned the towel he had around his waist to its hook on the back of the door and walked out into the bedroom.

“So tonight, I was thinking dinner around 6pm?” he suggested.  
“That sounds good,” she muttered, not looking up.  
“Dress nice though. Maybe in something slinky.”  
“Yup. Slinky. Got it.”  
“No panties, though.”  
“Right. No…what did you just say?” she said in incredulity and looked up at him. When she saw his state of undress, her eyes opened in surprise and she made a sound that was a cross between “OH!” and “What?”. He laughed out loud at her expression and walked past her to his dresser.

“I just wanted to see if you were actually listening,” he shrugged.  
“You might have to pay for that later,” she said darkly.  
“Promises, promises.”  
“What’s for dinner, Chef Queen?” she asked in anticipation.  
“Dinner is hours away, Felicity.”  
“Oliver...it is 3:30pm.”  
“Oh shit,” was all he said as he made a beeline for the kitchen. It was much later than he realized and he absolutely needed to get moving.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening dissolved into fragments. He worked steadily and efficiently in the kitchen, building all her favourites and moving from station to station between the ringing of various timers. At some point, he couldn’t even begin to guess when, she had come out and started the fireplace and one of her playlists, a mix of old and new jazz, closed the curtains and turned on the fairy lights she had him put up so that they hung in delicate strands around the room. Once he turned off the kitchen lights, the ambiance she had created would come into fruition.

Finally, with the last timer being set on the oven for the main course, he took a deep breath and finally looked around. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Felicity as she moved through the living room towards him in the kitchen. He noticed, much to his extreme delight, that while he had been cooking, she had taken his advice when she got dressed.

“What do you have on?” he asked in stunned amazement.  
“I bought it just in case we went out,” she said sheepishly, “Do you like it?”  
“Like it? Felicity...you are stunning.”

And she was. She had on a deep, dark green velvet halter top jumpsuit. It was sleeveless and appeared to do up with a single button on the collar around her neck and a belt tied at her waist. But what really pulled his attention was the plunging slit that ran from the base of the collar to just above the waist band. The fabric was soft and draped just enough to keep her covered but he could tell well enough when his wife wasn’t wearing a bra.

“I was hoping I’d get to wear it,” she smiled as he came around the counter.  
“I am very, very glad you did. I suppose I should get changed,” he said softly. He had intended to keep walking but paused long enough to run his fingertips down the soft, exposed skin of her chest. Felicity shivered just a little bit and looked up at him expectantly.

Sometimes the sparks between them were lightning bolts.

“Go,” she murmured, her cheeks blushing a delicate pink, “Because whatever is in the oven smells amazing.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Oliver headed in to change. She had gone to a lot of effort, so he had a look to see what he had in his closet. He’d scaled back his wardrobe since his release but found what he was looking for: a dark grey pair of slacks, a heather grey sweater and white shirt. It lacked the colour and style of Felicity’s outfit but he wasn’t ready to step out wearing anything that might draw attention to him just yet. Not even when he was at home.

He was dressed and out in the living room just as the oven timer went off.

“Perfect timing,” she said as she lit the candles on the dining room table.  
“Thank you for setting the table,” he said sheepishly, realizing he had forgotten to do it.  
“You are very welcome. Should I open the wine?” she asked.  
“Oh shit.”  
“Don’t tell me…”  
“I forgot the wine,” he groaned.  
“Oliver, if you think I’m going to be upset after you went to all this trouble…”  
“Are you sure?” he looked at her in proud disbelief.  
“Positive,” she said firmly.  
“Thank goodness I remembered the champagne,” he sighed.  
“Now...I would have been a little choked if we had to ring in the new year without a glass or two of that,” she teased.

Rolling up his sleeves, he paused to point at the table and said, “Sit. Dinner is about to be served.”

He didn’t disappoint her. He served her the appetizer, creamy bruschetta stuffed mushrooms,  
followed by homemade cream of butternut squash and carrot soup, seasoned with ginger and roasted garlic. She laughed when he brought out the kale salad but ate it, even though he knew how she would rather eat just about anything else.

They talked about a wide range of topics over dinner but the one that got the most attention was what were they going to do now that everyone knew he was the Green Arrow. Felicity was focused on her new security program ideas and how best to develop them but that wasn’t going to stop her from assisting him in his endeavours. Working with the Star City police for the time being was fine, but not something he could do for much longer.

“We just need a space where we can do what we need to do,” he said as he cleared space on the table for that was to come, “I was thinking, if you’re serious about buying the condo upstairs, we could create that space.”  
“So a work space for me and a work space for you?” she asked, watching him move back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.  
“I could build a gym and workout space, maybe a weapons area…”  
“We could keep the bedroom though, make it ours? Leave this as is but give William a larger room?” she asked.  
“You read my mind,” he smiled.  
“I think I like it...let me do some checking on how much it is listed for, I might be able to get us a deal.”  
“Because of us living under it, right?” he asked.  
“Yes, it might work in our favour,” she said with a small, sad smile.

The building managers had let them know that the people above had walked away from their mortgage and home when they moved it. It was a matter of safety and they couldn’t be blamed. He had no idea what to do to ensure his own family’s safety let alone anyone else’s. Maybe they could take over the mortgage and give the parting family some security as they moved on with their lives.

“We should figure out what to do about getting William back here with us, too,” he said as he put her dinner plate in front of her.  
“We really should,” she agreed, “We will. Now...what is this?”  
“Your favourites,” he smiled, “Roast chicken, fingerling potatoes, carrots, asparagus and…”  
“Your homemade Hollandaise?”  
“Of course.”  
“I love you, Oliver Queen.”

He laughed and sat down opposite her. For the first time since his release, he felt normal, comfortable and as close to truly happy as he’d been in a long time. He watched Felicity as she described her new idea, how the tech she was developing alongside it could change both personal and internet security forever. She was animated, shining, and so perfectly alive. He wished she could see herself through his eyes just once, how she glowed with energy.

“If you tell me there is dessert, I will say yes to it but it’ll have to wait for a couple of hours,” she said with a satisfied sigh, “I am so full.”  
“We can have it later,” he said, sitting back, “because I am stuffed, too.”  
“That was lovely, Oliver,” she said, reaching across the table for his hand.  
“I couldn’t exactly afford to buy anything for our anniversary or Hanukkah,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.  
“You don’t need to do that, Oliver,” she said gently, running her thumb over his knuckles, “this dinner was more than enough. You are more than enough.”  
“How about a dance? To get our digestive systems working,” he said, his voice tight with emotion.  
“Well, since this is an invite coming from a self-proclaimed nondancer…,” she said with a gentle smile.

Oliver stood up, extended a hand to her, pulled her to her feet and into his arms. The music on her playlist had shifted to something mournful, with soft vocals in gentle harmony. He wasn’t listening to the words, just the rhythm and how they both fell into sync around it. Her body was warm against his, her hand soft as he held it over his heart. She had laid her head on his chest and was leaning into the way he guided her around the open space between the living room and kitchen.

“We need more nights like this,” she said softly.  
“I agree,” he murmured, aware of every movement her body was making, the way his hand felt in the small of her back, the scent of her perfume, something softly feminine but not floral.  
“We need to dance together more often, too.”  
“Don’t push your luck, sweetheart,” he said sweetly and was rewarded with a laugh from her.  
“Come with me,” she said, taking his hands in hers, “I have something for you. I know we said no gifts but this isn’t really a gift per se.”  
“What have you done, Felicity?” he said suspiciously.  
“Just...just come with me.”

He followed her across the room to face a section of the wall of the living room. She had placed a credenza along the length of it. All of their souvenirs and art were wrapped in bubble wrap and scattered around the condo in unopened boxes stacked against the wall next to the door. Confused, he looked from it to her and back again.

“Is there something I should be seeing?” he asked.  
“The fact you can’t see it, means I did a very good job designing it and having it installed,” she said as she reached over and touched the a small button on the credenza in front of it.

A quiet, mechanical whirl sounded and a panel lifted, a perfectly camouflaged panel, and he found himself staring at a very familiar painting. One he hadn’t seen in six years, not since his childhood home had been destroyed by fire.

“Felicity…,” he started to say before his voice failed him. Coughing to clear his throat, he continued, “Where did you find this?”  
“I had a dream one night while you were...gone. About the mansion on that last night before Slade was stopped. I had walked through the halls, looking at all the empty spaces on the walls and wondered what had hung on the hooks. In my dream, I was trying to find some place to hide from Slade when I found a secret room full of paintings. When I woke up, I had a hunch. I knew the house contents had been mostly sold off to cover lawsuits and lawyers fees but what careful, forward planning matriarch doesn’t hide away treasures long before the creditors arrive?”  
“You assumed my mother did that,” he said, still in shock at what he was seeing.  
“I did. So I went on a scavenger hunt that lead me from warehouse to warehouse and finally to a storage company on the outskirts of the Glades. I paid to take over the lease, which had conveniently expired thanks to your wife’s amazing hacking skills, and finally had a chance to go and check what was in it while you were body swapped,” she explained, pressing closer to him.  
“What else was in it?” he asked. He stepped forward to take a closer look, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.  
“Besides this one? The one Rothko in your family’s possession? A few watercolours I am having appraised, Chinese porcelain, a lot of that actually, which I think we could sell to finance the condo purchase upstairs if you want to, and one last thing. Wait here.”

He nodded and continued to stare at the painting. He remembered when his father had brought it home, how they had held a party to unveil it for all of Starling’s elite. It had been a society event that he remembered not for the elegantly dressed men and women but for the lesson in art he had received from his mother. She had been glowing with pride, at having finally been able to locate and purchase an elusive Rothko original that had not been on display anywhere else in the world.

Then, as now, he stood in front of the painting and marveled at its colour. It was violet, green and red, bright and bold without being aggressive. He remembered the way it fit in the large alcove in the main drawing room. It was a modern piece but elevated the room that was full of Chinese porcelain and old books. It was the only painting in the entire house that he had truly appreciated and loved.

“Oliver?” she called from the couch, “Come and see.”

He turned around, not knowing what to expect, and saw a box sitting on the coffee table. He suspected it was the porcelain she had mentioned and was curious which pieces they were. He had a vague memory of intricately painted vases and bowls and was sure there was at least one that could take care of buying the condo upstairs as well as computers, weaponry and gym equipment.

“You didn’t have to do all this, Felicity,” he said, “But I love that you did.”  
“Just open this,” she said with a gentle nudge.

Looking at her, he tried to read her expression but she was carefully neutral. His curiosity kicked in and he sat down beside her and opened the box. It was carefully taped on both ends and was deceptively light for its size.

“Where did you hide this?” he asked  
“In the utility closet,” she chuckled.  
“Sneak,” he laughed. It was the one closet he tended to avoid.

Getting one end open, he reached in and felt cool glass under his hand. He paused and looked at Felicity, his heart suddenly beating out of control. If it was he thought it was, he would never be able to repay her for finding it.

“Go on,” she said encouragingly, “Take it out.”

 

Slowly, he pulled out the glass bottle with the ship inside of it that had sat on his father’s large desk, both of which had been inherited from his grandfather. He had memorized every detail of the ship, every mast pole, every plank. It was intimately tied to the gentler memories of his father before things started to go so very, very wrong in his parent’s marriage and home.

“I’ll show you where we can put it. To keep it safe,” she said quietly.

Nodding, he got up and followed her back to the credenza and Rothko painting. He was speechless with gratitude and awed by the tenacity and patience she must have had to follow the trail left by his mother. He saw that she held the original stand in her hand and watched as she placed it gently on two grooves in the top of the credenza.

“We kind of have a lot of incidents in our homes, so I thought of a way to protect both of these,” she explained as she watched him place the bottle on the stand. She reached and touched the small button on the credenza and he heard that same quiet, mechanical whirl and silently, the panel closed across the painting and the ship sunk into the credenza through a hidden slot that opened up underneath it.

It was brilliant. They could keep them protected all day and night when they weren’t home. He was astounded by the creativity and ingenuity required to make it all a reality.

“I created an app for us so that we can control it from wherever we are,” she said, slipping her arm through his, pulling his attention to her, “Just in case.”  
“Felicity, this…,” he stopped and stared straight ahead, trying to get his emotions under control, “I don’t know what to say.”  
“Do...do you not like it?” she asked, confused by his reaction.  
“No,” he said quickly, turning to face her, “I love it. I love you. I am just...overwhelmed.”  
“When I saw what was in the storage unit, I remembered you telling all about the ship in the bottle. But when I saw the painting, I remember seeing it in the mansion that night of the ill fated gala you threw for your mom and sister,” she said softly.  
“Where I got you that date with Barry Allen,” he said grimly.  
“Well, I would have gotten that on my own,” she said smartly.  
“Uh huh,” he said noncommittally and laughed when she poked him in the ribs.  
“So you are happy with this?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.  
“I love that painting. I have loved it since I was eleven years old. And the ship in the bottle...the fact that survived and you found it...Felicity…,” he paused and turned her towards him, “Every day, every single day, I love you more then the day before but never more the day that follows.”  
“You are such a romantic,” she smiled, blushing the longer he stared at her.  
“When did you do this?” he asked.  
“You were gone for a week, Oliver. The craftsman was in and out in a day,” she said softly as she fell so effortlessly into his embrace.

He cupped her face in his large, calloused hands and gently traced her lips with his thumbs. Felicity had made a habit of causing him to look deep within his heart and often what he found there was her. Her love, her patience, the thoughtfulness she showed him on a continual basis, despite the damage he had caused by turning himself in, all of that remained a constant in how she approached their relationship. He could think of no better way to thank her for it than to show her in action. He leaned down and kissed her, a long, passion filled kiss.

“What about the dishes,” she murmured against his lips.  
“Fuck the dishes,” he responded quietly and kissed her again, his tongue parted her lips, pushing into her mouth. There was no delicateness, no patience, only a building desire that threatened to push his mind apart. When he felt her arms go around his neck, he picked her up for the short walk back to their bedroom. Dessert would have to wait.

She had left the fireplace on, providing just enough light to see, his way to the foot of their bed. He wanted to see her, the glow of her skin in the darkened room, the way her hair could capture and hold the light. With careful fingers, he found the button on the collar of her jumpsuit, undid it and watched as it fell away from her body to her waist. With a gentle tug, the belt came undone and the entire outfit fell off her body. It was what she had underneath that took his breath away.

“Felicity…,” he stammered.  
“You like?” she asked, with a wink and a smile.  
“You are the gift. Not the painting, not the ship in the bottle...you,” he said softly as he ran his hands down her arms across her back and down to her hips. She was wearing a black lace garter belt, stockings and thong. “Was the garter belt necessary?”  
“Of course it was, you should have seen your face,” she murmured softly, wavering on her feet just a little bit as his fingertips brushed gently over her nipples.  
“I love you, Felicity Smoak,” he whispered. The effect of the black garter and stockings against her pale skin was an aphrodisiac, a blended visual sensation that was sexy and intimately erotic. He was mesmerized by the curve of her hips and the taut skin of her abdomen.  
“I love you, Oliver Queen, I love all of you,” she said quietly as she leaned into him, “Take off your sweater and shirt.”

Oliver chuckled, low in his throat, and did as she asked. He hadn’t finished undoing his shirt when he felt her lips on his chest, her hands running around his torso to his back. Her fingertips traced the grooves of the sharkbite on his side, over the hard ridges and smooth skin untouched by serrated teeth. She had once told him that his body was a story and that every new scar added a chapter for her to learn. One night in Bali, under a full moon and clear, star filled sky, she had explored every inch of his textured skin. By the time she guided his cock into her body, he had been close to passing out for the sheer want of her.

She had taken all the pieces of his broken mind, his shattered heart and found a way to put them back together on their trip around the world. She had shown him the way out of the darkness he had inhabited in order to survive for close to a decade, guided him one step at a time until he left his world of shadows and found the space, out in the open, that was his and his alone. Through it all, she had shown him that he was worthy of living the life they had grabbed hold of and through sheer grit and determination, had carved out a path for him to follow. He believed in her, even when he couldn’t believe in himself.

As tenderly as he could, he lifted her up and laid her on the bed, careful not to move to fast or grip her too hard. He was always careful with how he held her, knowing that his strength could cause harm in unguarded moments, he was always aware of how much force he was using even to just hold her. It meant he moved with measured calm despite the urgency he felt in moments such as these. She watched him in silence, awaiting his next move, trusting her body, her heart, in his hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he kissed the inside of her right thigh, “for being who you are.” He turned his head and kissed her other thigh, letting the scruff of his beard rub against her exposed skin. Her sharp intake of breath was his reward.

He felt her hands running over his head and smiled at her sigh of frustration. She wanted him to grow his hair out but he continued to resisted her request, the ties to Slabside still clung to the surface of his skin. While her attention was diverted, he used two fingers to move the thong out of his way, feeling the silky hot wetness of her, and slowly stroked her clit. He used to be hesitant, almost afraid to do this, to invade her body and space but over time and through her loving encouragement, he had discovered a world of pleasure in how she felt under his skillful tongue.

Running his hands up her body, he felt the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to control her breathing. Trailing his fingertips down her side, he felt the ridges of her ribs and muscles newly acquired. There was always something to discover as her body revealed its hidden secrets. When she lifted herself to look down at him, their eyes met and and a lightning bolt of desire passed back and forth between them.

Her hips began to move against his mouth as he continued to apply an undulating pressure to her clit, her legs tightened around his head as her hips lifted off the bed. With a soft cry, her orgasm crashed against him in a long, rolling wave. It was effortless, the way he could find the right rhythm and tempo to push her past her ability to control the need but it felt new every single time it happened.

Oliver felt her hands on his head, willing him to stay in place. He cupped her breasts, his hands knowing the path to them, sight unseen, and she came again while he circled her nipples with his thumbs, a flood against his mouth. Felicity went limp, a thin sheen of sweat forming across her chest, he could feel a pulse under his tongue, his cue to stop and ease away, giving her a chance to catch her breath.

With the lightest of touches, he undid the garter belt from her stockings and slid them down her legs, her skin soft as satin. He caught the faintest whiff of her body wash. Something earthy and natural like sandalwood and ylang ylang, reminiscent of Bali. He nuzzled the length of her legs, finding only soft, supple skin. Without being asked, she lifted her hips so he could remove the thong and garter belt but then she sat up and reached for his belt. With a low chuckle, he gladly let her undo his pants, his cock was hard and pressing uncomfortably against the zipper.

Before she could touch him, he stepped off the bed and removed the rest of his clothes. Felicity, her skin flushed and glowing, sat with her legs crossed at the ankles, waiting for him to rejoin her. Reaching out one hand to him, she said, “Come here.”

Smiling, he held her hand as he knelt on the bed in front of her. Leaning down, he kissed her with passion and a desire that continued to grow no matter how often they did this. The promise of her body, of her, wiped all other thoughts from his mind. As he explored her mouth with his tongue, she gently grasped his cock and stroked it. He saw flashes of light, fleeting, distant images of their time in Positano when she had reached under the covers one morning and stroked him until pushed her hands away, pulled her on top of him and made love to her with something approaching grace before he was fully awake.

She hummed against his lips and he felt his consciousness slip sideways, he felt fractured, seized by a need greater than his ability to control it. He cupped her face and kissed her with purpose as he used his size to push her onto her back, reclaiming his position above her. He moved his hands down the length of her body, feeling the texture of her skin, the way it acted as a roadmap, leading him down past her waist to the inside of her thighs, and he pushed her legs apart, his hands under her knees.

Felicity smiled into his kiss, daring him to continue. Oliver used one hand to guide his cock into her, inwardly groaning at how hot her body was, how tight she was at first before relaxing around him. She took possession of his soul when she rolled her hips, pushed against his with urgency, demanding he set a rhythm for her to fall into.

The curve of her hips, the shape of her breasts pressed tight against his chest, the tender way she moved her hands down his back knocked his world off its axis. He centred himself by pressing hard against her pelvis with his own, feeling how deep his cock could go, how he was able to thrust, silky smooth, before she began to writhe underneath him, her legs wrapped tight around his waist.

Deliberately, he stopped, pulled out of her completely and let the air in the bedroom cool his cock down. He was throbbing, barely in control of his body, but he turned his attention back to Felicity, to the look of naked need in her eyes, and felt the thrum, the flexing throb at the base of his pelvis, pleasure mixed with exquisite pain.

This time, without using his hands, he pushed into her, slowly, feeling the pressure of her body down the length of his cock. It was familiar, new, comforting and electric all at once. Luscious. That was the word he was searching for, her body felt luscious.

“God, Oliver,” she gasped, her mouth next to his ear, “I love you.”  
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his hips rolling hard, pinning her beneath him, “you glow like the moon.” And then he was lost to the warmth of her body, the scent of her, the taste of her that still lingered on his lips.

Oliver felt obliterated. He loved her more than anyone he’d ever known. More than his mother, father, more than Thea and Tommy. But it was a different kind of love, pared down to a leaner, singular essence. A subatomic energy that threatened to consume him but bound him to her, body and soul.

Distantly, he heard her cry out and her body exploded into a pulsing, sinuous force. She held onto him, her hips slammed into his, refusing to give any ground. She took her pleasure from him, forcing him to choose whether or not to stop but he felt the knot at the base of his cock unfurl and dove into her, feeling the pain of waiting give way to mind shattering ecstasy. His orgasm didn’t just happen this time, it arrived with fire and force, and he poured himself into her as his cock throbbed, every nerve in his body sizzled in relief.

As carefully as he could, he laid down beside her and watched as she slowly returned to her body, a journey made easier through repetition. He smiled as she opened her eyes and turned towards him, her face and chest still flushed a rosy red. Felicity brought one of his hands to her lips and gently kissed the scarred knuckles and calloused palm, then brought it to rest over her heart.

“Oliver...you are so good to me,” she smiled.  
“I try to be,” he smiled back.  
“I think we worked off dinner.”  
“I hope so,” he chuckled, “Because dessert is a killer.”

Felicity laughed, moved closer to him and laid her head on his chest. Oliver managed to pull the afghan up from the base of the bed and cover them. The air was cool on their sweat covered skin. Regardless of the time, neither of them was in any rush to get up, midnight was still a few hours away but he sensed that she would be happy to ring in the new year exactly where they were. Felicity was running her nails slowly over the undamaged skin below his belly button, sending shivers up his spine.

They spoke quietly about the need to get William home once and for all, about her new company, his prospects, the chance to create a new reality for themselves. He twirled silkened strands of her hair around and around his fingers, letting them slip free before finding new ones to begin all over again. It was reflexive and calming.

She dozed off mid sentence, leaving him the opportunity to think about the gift she had given him. By returning part of his past, she had unknowingly restored a missing piece of his soul. He mourned his parents everyday. The ferocity of his mother, the quiet patience of his father, the energy they had as individuals and as united force, he mourned that loss and grieved them both as best he could as their imperfect son.

He thought all he would ever have of them was their lies, their secrets, the memories of two lives lived in wealthy extremes. When Felicity unveiled the painting and then handed him the ship in the bottle, he knew he could finally lay them to rest, burying their mistakes and remembering only that they had loved him as best they could.

She had given him the gift of both the past and the future. It was why he had been rendered speechless, the enormity of what she had done had cleaved away the final wall between them. He felt sure she could see through him, to the wounds so deep they would never heal, but still loved him with every part of her. She had given them a new beginning.

His thoughts drifted far, to the Green Arrow, to Diggle’s estrangement from Felicity, to the way Earth 2’s Laurel was not to be trusted moving forward, when he felt her stir. The press of her lips on his chest pulled him back to the night they were sharing locked in an intimate embrace.

“I think we need to shower,” she said sleepily.  
“We do but I am warm and comfortable,” he protested lightly, “Don’t make me choose.”  
“A hot shower with me or laying in bed while I have a hot shower. Your choice,” she said in a husky, quiet voice as she got up and left him on the bed.

Oliver chuckled quietly to himself as he watched her walk into their master bath, waited until he heard the water start running and then got up to join her. He knew they had to grab moments of peace amidst the chaos, that they would always live on the razor’s edge of safety, and he wasn’t going to waste a single second. She was waiting for him under the hot, falling water, beckoning him to join her.

The water had barely touched his skin when she ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. She was tactile, exploratory, in everything she did and was no different when it came to him. Somehow they made it through the shower without giving in to their building desire but they didn’t leave the bedroom again for hours.

The new year arrived, amidst fireworks and gunfire from far below, as they sat in the centre of the bed. Felicity was astride his lap, her arms around his neck, and they moved in a gentle rhythm, their breathing and bodies united. Oliver hands were under her hips, keeping her firmly in sync with him, and he watched as she fell into a kind of trance. A flush crept up her chest and neck as he watched, mesmerized by the way she felt and sounded.

With their foreheads pressed together, Felicity’s body clenched down around him and she came in a series of hard thrusts against him. He leaned her back, his lips on her neck, and felt her shudder and cry out. Her climax was extended, a series of waves that crashed against him, he pulled her back to him and followed her. Every cell in his body was electrified, the pressure in his pelvis finally finding release.

They stayed in that position, holding one another, finding solace in the heavy stillness of their bodies. She murmured something softly in his ear but he was not yet able to focus on her words. Then her lips were on his and he was once again lost, following her back through the labyrinth of love and desire she had carved into his heart. Felicity had pulled him out of the wilderness, he had fought his way out of hell for her, for them. He could see her clearly now, he understood the way she loved him. This time, the new beginning she had given them both, this time he would do things right.

Later, their bodies still entwined, she slept with her head on his shoulder. The room was warm but he was unable to sleep. He wasn’t restless, he was waiting for that moment when her breathing deepened and he knew she was truly, deeply asleep. Then, with tears flowing freely, he whispered his heart to her. Oliver poured out everything he was afraid to say out loud, he thanked her for finding pieces of his past and for forging a path to the future.

Feeling lighter, yet more alive, Oliver finally drifted off to sleep. The landscape of their marriage was finally coming into view and he could see from horizon to horizon. He dreamed of her that night, of her soft sighs, the welcoming wet heat of her body, and the forgiveness she offering. He felt ready, finally, for whatever was to come.


End file.
